Home
by TheGodmother2
Summary: You shouldn't go home he'd said it before but it never hurt when he did. Multiple chapter post-season four aftermath. Walt & Vic
1. Chapter 1

**For Vickrok**

* * *

She had nothing to stay for and it didn't take long for her to pack her black military grade Cordura carry-on. The boxes that were piled on the fashionable wood floor bedroom hiding the perfectly painted wall space were now stacked neatly outside near the politically correct trash containers assembled neatly between the blue recycle and the green live waste.

She put four-hundred dollars in an envelope and scribbled a thank you note to Cady and an apology on the front and laid it next to her gun, badge, and Sheriff's Department identification. She didn't leave a forwarding address or telephone number because she wasn't their concern anymore, if she ever was, she still wasn't sure. As much as she dreaded going home she knew that was the only place she could go and be wanted and that's what she needed right now, to be wanted.

The phone only rang twice before her mom answered and despite her repeated promises to herself not to cry she did. Lena didn't argue, in fact, she only said two words; come home. The courage required to stop by the station and leave a letter or a note or say good-bye was conspicuously absent and she opted for a text to Ferg.

 _Sorry Ferg can u tell Walt I quit. Can't come by. Told Eammon 2 call 4 a job. I'm an asshole 2 send this 2 U I'm sorry._

True to his thoughtful nature he called but she quickly declined the call and he left a message and sent a text back.

 _U ok? Call me. Vic?_

Bob was on-time and very sober and was considerably quiet on the drive to Sheridan. When he dropped her at the airport he refused to take any money saying that the company was welcome and he wished her luck. He gave her a hug and he did an odd thing. He apologized for the lost signature card. She smiled and closed her eyes thinking of when the end actually began and she kissed his cheek.

"Thanks, Bob."

"You're welcome, Vic. Be careful. We're gonna miss you around here. I promise to drop this letter off right away at the station."

She didn't have the capacity to give him more even if she wanted to so she turned around and stood in the two person line at TSA, waited at the terminal gate, boarded the clipper and began her three leg journey to Philadelphia.

She didn't turn her phone on until she landed at PHL and her heart sank when there was only one voice mail from Ruby. Her eyes began to well as she walked through the terminal and she avoided eye contact for fear that some stranger would notice and take pity on her and why she cared about that she didn't know but she knew she couldn't stand the judgment of others not right now so she tucked into a bathroom stall and let the tears that were forcing their way out fall down her cheeks and she made her ugly faces because no one could see them. The thin toilet paper doubled as a tissue as she blew her nose and pressed her palms to her cheeks.

 _He doesn't give a fuck about you._ That's what she told herself trying to incite the anger that was buried too deep for her own good. _He never gave a fuck_ she said in her head and the shame of that forced her head against the wall of the bathroom stall. The frequent flushes that surrounded her pushed her back into reality. Well that's appropriate she thought or apropos and she refused to think about him and the more she refused the more he appeared.

 _Fuck him._ She said it out loud this time and drags her carry-on behind her following the ground transportation signs. She saw him first. He was at the bottom of the escalator with his hands pressed inside his pant pockets, his jaw was set, and he scanned the escalator his eyes finally finding her. His hand rose up, his fingers spread open, and his smile matched the wideness of his hand. She stepped off the escalator and into his expectant arms.

"Daddy." She cried in his ear.

"Baby." He said back.

She leaned back, "I was expecting mom."

"She's home cooking dinner and getting your room ready."

"I'm sorry."

"What happened?" He pulls her hair back from her face.

"I'm not in trouble if that's what you mean."

"That's not what I mean."

She hangs her head down and he reaches under her chin with his index finger and pushes her head up gently.

"Who do I need to fucking kill?"

She smiled, it was genuine, and he said, "I'm fucking serious."

"I know you are, Daddy but I don't need you to kill anyone. I just need to be home for a little while."

He looks at her, and takes her hands in his, and nods his head.

"Let's go home and eat some of your mom's pasta and when you're ready you can tell us."

She nods her head and they turn toward the automatic doors.

"There's nothing you can't tell us Victoria."

"I know."

"I'm fucking serious."

"I know."

As they step through the doors she's both terrified and relieved to be home because her family is far from perfect and so is she but here she knows she's wanted.


	2. Senior

She didn't know that's what she would tell him later but they both knew it wouldn't have mattered.

"You wanna stop for a coffee?"

"I don't want to make mom wait you know how she gets."

"She'll be alright."

It was a peace offering. A soft place to land. She knew she was being hypersensitive and reactionary but she accepted it and they sat across from each other at Phil'z Coffee House in the midst grad students and thespians because she also knew she had to come clean.

"Are you hurt?" Her dad asked her with the sensitivity of interviewing a rape victim.

She couldn't help but scrunch her face and act defensive, "Fuck no." She proclaimed with all of her feminine strength.

Vic, the senior, reached across the table and covered her hand still wrapped around the hot recycled coffee cup container.

"Vic, are you hurt?" His tone was a little more demanding and a mix of father and cop.

She couldn't speak to him and say it out loud because if she did that meant it was true so she looked out of the glass front and nodded her head and wiped her eye with her free hand and when she did she felt his hand tighten around hers and he didn't let go.

"Victoria." He said and his voice was soft like when she was a little girl and afraid of the monsters under her bed.

She turned back toward him and noticed the roundness of his eyes and she didn't see pity and she didn't see judgment.

"Do we need to see a doctor?" He asks and the empathy fills his face.

"I'm not hurt like that." She's honest and his face remains the same and his grip tightens just a little more.

"Will you tell me what happened? Is it Sean?"

They were swallowed by the noise of the city, the noise of the coffee shop and no one would know by looking at them that her life was falling apart and she had lost her way. The uninformed casual observer may even make the mistake that they were lovers having a crucial conversation about the future of their doomed romance but the casual observer has no place here. No place bearing witness to the events that have led to this moment. The moment where Victoria Moretti graduates from sophomoric sexual fantasy to the woman she was always destined to be and the pain, the process, the journey is something we are all a part of. We have a vested interest and we sit along with her voluntarily captive father as she confesses the choices that she conceived and birthed that are now growing and eating her alive.

"Did you ever tell Sean any of this?"

"I was relieved that he wanted out. It was chicken shit but it was easy and I didn't fight for my marriage because I never really wanted it and that makes me a horrible person."

"I never thought he was right for you."

"Don't do that."

"You're my daughter, Vic."

"I know and that's why I need you. I'm a part of you a part of why I'm this way. I'm not blaming you dad I just need your fucking help to see my way clear."

He shakes his head because he understands and he is rightfully assuming his responsibility and squelching and choking down the pain, the natural defensiveness, he feels for his daughter.

"You have to stop running." He says it matter-of-factly.

She looks at him because he says what she doesn't want to hear and she recognizes the truth as it is presented to her naked and unafraid.

"You ran to Wyoming when shit got hard here with the Bobby Donolato case and now that you have a little adversity you run back home. You know you can come home, Vic, that's not what I'm saying but you can't keep running baby not if you're ever going to live and love the way you were meant to."

"I can't stay there."

"Have you talked to him?"

"I tried."

"That's not what I asked. Have you talked to him?"

She shakes her head and takes her hand back and folds a brown printed napkin in her hand and blows her nose. Her mind reads the Phil'z advertisement on the napkin and her brain thinks that the extra ink on the napkin totally undermines the thought of recycling in the first place then her eyebrows crinkle because they frown on this random thought of meaningless dribble that somehow is completely reflective of her behavior.

"I wouldn't know what to say to him."

Vic takes a sip of his cooled coffee and looks around the crowded shop.

"What are you saying to yourself?"

The question catches her so off guard she answers it before she thinks about it.

"He never gave a fuck about me."

"You think you imagined it?"

"I don't know."

"Come on, Vic."

"Dad, I don't know. I'm so fucking confused."

"No, I don't think you are confused. I think you just don't like what you see."

It was the slap she was expecting and it hurt and it stings.

"You're right but I don't know what to do." And the tears that were perched drop directly on the wooden table but she sniffs the rest back into her head as her dad gives her his finely pressed handkerchief.

"I'm sorry to cry like this, fuck."

"It's ok, Vic."

"I don't want to embarrass you."

"Fuck them." He says, "No one is paying attention to us."

She looks around and tucks the white linen in her hand and folds her hands between her knees. Her tears are dry and she smiles quickly at her dad feeling the warmth of his strength.

"I've made some really bad choices."

He listens.

"I'm tired of making bad choices." She takes a breath and exhales, "But I'm not sure how to make good ones."

He leans forward because he can't bear the thought of her not understanding, "You have to start by always being honest with yourself, Vic. You can't lie to yourself anymore."

"The truth sucks."

"It usually does."

"Why is this so hard?"

"It's called growing up, Vic. Some of us never do it but it's not easy for any of us."

"I'm a little old to grow-up don't you think?"

"You're one of the lucky ones."

"Fuck me. Lucky?"

"Yeah, you're giving yourself a chance to get it right. To get it right before it's too late."

"Maybe that's what he meant?"

"What?"

"He told me that maybe the point was to get it right just once that maybe that's all that matters."

"I thought you didn't talk to him about how you felt?"

"I didn't. I was upset. I was at the river where we found Branch. I had been drinking and I was angry." She pushes her palm to her forehead, "About Branch, about him about me about everything and I told him there aren't any second chances and that I had fucked up everything and that I'm toxic."

"If you believe you are then you are."

She looks at him taking stock.

"Why do you believe that?"

"I told you dad my choices."

"Stop making bad ones. It's not fucking rocket science."

They look at each other, each recognizing themselves in the other, and he turns his lips upward and she matches his faint grin of acceptance.

"Vic." He pauses and takes a deep breath. "Listen, honey, I have to tell you something that I should have told you when you were 13 years old but I didn't know how and I still don't."

Her heart stops as he pauses.

"Please tell me you're my father."

"Fuck yeah of course." He laughs

"No, what I need to tell you is that the odds just aren't in your corner and they never were and they never will be and a big part of you getting here has everything to do with us and your family and it's not an excuse but it's your fucking reality and kid you're sorta paying the price for it."

"Make sense, dad."

"You have the misfortune of growing up the only girl with all older brothers and a family full of cops to boot. You had to be strong, you had to be resilient, you had to be a tomboy, you had to curse and fight and spit and claw to survive, but what that does it makes you different from other women. It doesn't mean you're broken, it doesn't mean there's something wrong, but when you try to fit yourself into the wrong relationship it all goes wrong because that's not who you are."

He twirls the coffee cup between his large hands on the table.

"Vic, you don't need a man to be happy you know that. That I taught you but the part I didn't tell you is that it intimidates the shit out of most men but you need to understand that the man that would be intimidated by you is not the man for you. The trouble is, you are going to be hard pressed to find a man that is worthy of you, as strong as you and can deal with all of you. I hate to say it so plainly but it's the truth as I know it from a man who's been around long enough to know."

He finishes his coffee and shoves the lid inside of the cup.

"I think they have free refills, Dad."

"Nah, I'm good."

"Listen." He looks at her. "Now I don't know this Walt character so I can't say but what I do know is that this is about you and not him."

"How is it not about him?"

"It's about why you picked him."

"I don't know."

"There you fucking go. That's the answer. That's what you gotta find out because the key to unlocking all of this is there."

She nods her head.

"And let me tell you something Victoria. Once you find out the answer and you don't like it you don't have to live with it you can change it. Don't ever settle again, baby. That's the one choice you should never make for yourself. You're too good for that. You're too valuable for that. You have to get that through your thick Italian skull first that you deserve your own love."

She stands up and leans over he meets her half-way and they hug each other.

"How come you weren't like this when I was growing up?"

"I needed to keep my foot in your ass. You're just like me."

"I love you."

"I love you, too, kid."

She pulls her hair back and straightens it out.

"Your mom is really worried about you so cut her some slack."

"I will."

He takes her hand and presses it to his heart, "There's one other thing; you're a Moretti don't you ever fucking forget that."

"I won't. I promise."


	3. 307

He knew what he was doing that's what he told her when he admitted the truth but really he was just getting even the only way he knew how but he never considered how deep the puncture would be or how much it would bleed.

Ruby doesn't say much anymore about him, about her, or about anything. It's not that their relationship is ruined it's just that it's not quite the same. It's mostly because he is embarrassed but he needn't be but you know how he is; taking on too much, assuming too much, and not accepting that he's not as important or as powerful as he once thought he was.

After that afternoon when Stanley Keene burst in his cabin and confronted him armed to the teeth he's never been quite the same either and it's not that she left him, unscathed and unharmed, it was that she left him; The woman he cared most about, the one he thought of when the door crashed the one he grieved every time he walked past her once occupied desk.

Keene laid out the truth about Martha and a love lost, a misguided and misconceived notion of love from the mind of a madman but strangely lucid in pain and veracity. Her face was strangely absent of the sting of his words or confusion but simply plain with acceptance and belief. The role of substitute it seems was eerily familiar with her and the concept of transference defined in her actions.

She knew what she was doing and she didn't apologize or make haste instead she rationalized and beguilingly engaged in discourse with the deranged maniac and through sheer physical strength and prowess he subdued their captor.

At the end of the twelve hour ordeal his world would never be normal again; if it could ever be classified as such, but he didn't know that it would all but end.

 _She sent me a text_ , he said, _she quit_.

He foolishly looked for a note or a letter. One just for him but there was none to be found. His desk was empty. Ruby read the professionally typed letter of resignation that did not contain a hint of feeling or what he thought they shared.

 _I'm sorry_ , _Walter_ is all she said _I'm sorry for everything. I didn't know_ she added admitting she didn't know quite everything though she was closer than anyone.

Give it a week he thought to himself, let her blow off some of that infamous steam, but a week came and a week went and that's when the anger set in. The anger that the county bore witness to the first year after Martha the anger no one understood. The anger he couldn't explain to anyone least himself. He pulled her file. He knew where she was or at least he thought he did and one night after drinking the second beer of the second six-pack he dialed the long distance number and a voice as deep in timbre as his answered and after the unexpected panic seized his vocal chords he hung-up.

Sometimes when he would drive the back county roads the dirt kicking up behind the all-terrain tires he felt like he lost both of them at the same time and as he sank into the deep quiet solitude of his mind he would occasionally stumble and find a nugget of clarity and he would recognize that he was indeed grieving for both of them.

As the time passed the toll of extra hours forced his hand and his pride and to his dismay Eammon agreed to come on-board an act of desperation from both men which often resulted in long silent challenges. His anger surprised him at times because of its fierceness which we know and he finally admitted was steeped in jealousy.

 _If I act professionally it will be ok,_ the refrain played over and over as he seethed and when it didn't click he would add, _I can't let my personal feelings effect my decisions._

Neither served him well despite their surface appeal and one unexpectedly busy evening perched between autumn and fall the two exchanged glances, words exchanged, and blows were thrown. She wasn't there to stop it this time though she was the reason this time and it left him unable to cope so he retreated deeper into the vortex of silence and solitude.

The extra hours and physical disposition were perceived as dedication and loyalty and commitment to community. Only those with a microscopic view could witness the small fragile cracks that were deepening and widening and weakening the stoic structure of Walt Longmire.

Just as the first snap of cold descended upon the large county Ferg pushed the #2 button on his smartphone and he waited as he blew out the air filling his lungs. He was rehearsing the message in his head when she answered.

"Hello"

"Ah hey ah Vic it's me"

"I know shithead what's up?"

"Ah well I just called to see how you were? You know we miss, I mean I miss you around here and well we haven't talked so I thought I would call."

"What time is it?"

"It's late. Oh, it's probably too late to call. I'm sorry. Hum."

"What's wrong?"

"Nothing."

She doesn't say anything and she's not quite sure why she answered other than it really is late and she was sleeping and didn't check the caller id and she hasn't spoken to anyone from the entire state of Wyoming except for the Human Resource Analyst and the Retirement Specialist a few months ago.

"Vic, ah." His pause sets panic into her mind.

"Is he dead?"

"What, no." He clarifies.

"Is he hurt?"

"Well technically."

"What the fuck, Ferg." She's straight up and out of bed and she's mad that she's upset but it's a panic she can't contain and that makes it worse and she waits for him to say it.

Ferg looks around the empty office and separates the blinds with his index finger and thumb peering out onto the street and doesn't see the Bronco so he finally says;

"Vic he's in trouble and I know by now you don't give a shit but you should and well I wouldn't call if we didn't need you, if he didn't need you, and I'll probably get fired if he finds out I called you but at this point being fired would be better so if you ever cared anything about us we need you and I know it's low to put a guilt trip on you and everything but I don't know what to do so I thought I would call and there that's everything."

He takes a deep breath and before she can respond he adds, "Well that's not quite everything because I don't know if the news made it up there but the morning you left Stanley Keene broke into his cabin and nearly killed him and that lady psychiatrist." His voice goes low like he shouldn't say anymore but he does, "and well let's just say they weren't exactly behaving professionally and anyway no one got hurt or anything but we never saw her again and at first you know I thought it was about that but it wasn't and none of us can say your name without getting our heads torn off but anyway look can you come?"

"He doesn't need me."

"Haven't you heard anything I've said?"

"I don't want him to need me."

His heart sinks a little and he knows he wasn't prepared for this as he closes his eyes from the shame of embarrassment for calling her.

"I'm sorry, Ferg. I really am. I'm sorry for you and I'm sorry I left you holding a bag of shit but I had to. I had to save myself."

"No, I get it." He says but he's angry at her and he's angry at him.

"You know, Vic, for years both of you treated me like a kid and you know I probably deserved it in the beginning and I've made mistakes and I've tried to learn from them. I'm not always the best guy or the smartest guy or the most handsome guy but you know what at least I'm an honest guy and I can't say the same for you or for him. I always looked up to both of you and I was stupid to do so because you both are the most senseless and immature selfish people I know because neither one of you gives a shit about the rest of us and how what you do affects us. All you care about is yourselves. Stay wherever the hell you are and oh by the way if you don't want to have anything to do with us or the entire state of Wyoming change your fucking telephone number because the area code 307 belongs to us."

Later she would remind Ferg that was the first time and the last time she'd ever heard him curse and it made her equally proud and equally terrified but in the end it made her take the first flight on the outbound plane.


	4. The Tin Man

She hadn't felt a knot in her stomach this ferocious since she first kissed Joey Abato next the storage shed in the backyard. Her heart raced forward and she practiced tactical breathing; a concept artful in its own simplicity.

She played with her phone but followed the flight attendant's instructions to turn off all electronic devices during take-off, an action easy enough to follow, but one that brought on a wave of anxiety and regret because it trigged a muscle memory, a heart muscle and a brain muscle, reminding her that he didn't have an electronic device. The rules that apply to everyone else never applied to him and that he had constructed his life that way. He surrounded himself in a complicated web of intricacies that looked appealing from the outside and held a gravitational pull until you were sucked in the complex web and trapped in his dysfunctionality. Of course, only those as dysfunctional as he would find the whole convoluted mess attractive. She conceded that point willingly.

Before boarding her final leg she counted, one, two, three, four, four, three, two, one and hit send on the exhale. Ferg answered and she was surprised because she knew how pissed he was but she didn't give him a chance to argue or to apologize or to make a choice between the two.

"I'm landing in an hour and fifteen minutes. Come get me. Don't make me wait."

In unlike Ferg fashion he didn't thank her, he didn't get sentimental, he just said, "I'll be there."

It was the subtle seriousness of Ferg's tone that told her clearly just how bad things must be and the weight was suddenly lifted as she felt the shift. The shift in power. Of course, you and I both know she has always possessed the power, the control, the clarity to dictate her own path and her own way but she's human just like us and sometimes you only find your way through another's destruction.

The blue Trans-Am was nowhere to be found and for a moment Vic feels abandoned, abandoned like she did all those months ago, and just like then she has a choice. She's processing her mental checklist and deciding if they are worth it, if he is worth it, and she's thinking he should have come for her but that doesn't matter now because he didn't and she's here and she decided to come. This is her choice.

She hears the familiar voice and turns around.

"Hey Vic." Ferg smiles slightly and she notices how much older he looks, and thinner, and unhappy.

"Ferg." She reaches up and wraps her arms around his neck, stretching up on her tippy toes because he looks like he needs a hug. A real hug. His arms collapse around her waist and he buries his head in her shoulders and she can hear the weakness in his voice.

"I'm so glad you came. I knew you would. We need you so much." He says into the crook of her neck.

She drops her arms and looks at him and she doesn't know how to ask so she doesn't and he takes the open space as an invitation to sort out the details of Walt's self-descent. When he looks up and inhales and exhales he says, "He pretty much doesn't come to the station anymore even though he works 24/7. I found him camping out last weekend when I finally took a day off to go fishing and it reminded me of Branch and how we pretty much didn't do anything to help him because we didn't know what to do and I don't know Vic when I saw him I couldn't tell you the last time he shaved or showered for that matter it's like…it's like…"

She finished his sentence, "It's like he's retreated into his mind and he can't see his way out."

"Exactly. That's exactly what he's like. He just works to exhaustion like he doesn't want to be at the station and he doesn't want to be at his cabin. He disappears with his books and his horse and he's gone for a day and then he's back in the grind and no one says anything but you know there's only me and Ruby who give a darn and I can't put this on her."

She reaches out and touches his forearm, "I get it Ferg and I'm sorry."

"Vic, there's something else and maybe you already know."

He clears his throat and sucks in some air for courage.

"Eammon started working with us a couple of months ago and I didn't know if you knew but I thought I should tell you."

"Fuck that must be going well."

"Well, no, it's pretty bad. I think they had a fist fight but I can't confirm it because neither one will say anything and they don't exactly talk to each other I just know that they both ended up at the station with scrapes and bruises but they weren't on a call together and there's no report and they've kept their distance since then."

"Fuck"

"Yeah, exactly."

She pushes her palms to her face and she does her mental inventory assessing if he is worth saving and she moves her hands revealing her face.

"I'm sorry, Ferg." She says, "I'm sorry I left you holding the bag. I couldn't do it anymore. I just couldn't and it's complicated and it's unfair and it's more information than you want to know but I don't think I should be here. This is too much for me and it's not even about me."

"It's everything to do with you."

"No, Ferg, it's everything to do with him. I'm not a savior."

"I never said you were Vic but he's chin deep in the worst storm of his life and right now I think you're the only person that can get through to him."

"I can't save him"

"But you're the eye of the storm don't you see that. You can make it stop."

"What the fuck, Ferg you can't put this on me."

"I'm not putting it on you but you aren't exactly innocent in this whole thing. The way you acted when Eammon was here especially after Walt fired him. You knew that was wrong, Vic."

"Hey, wait a minute you can't blame me for Walt being an asshole and firing Eammon."

"No, but I can blame you for openly flirting with Eammon in front of Walt when everyone knows how Walt feels about you."

"Oh, so now everyone knows except me because he's never said a fucking word to me about it."

"Vic, seriously, the man fires a competent deputy when we desperately needed help because you two were flirting right in front of him. Vic, he's the Sheriff, the most powerful man in the county and he's the same man that had you locked in his office when he went out to find David Ridges because he was protecting you from Branch. What about me, Vic? Isn't my life worth something? He never asked if I was ok? Nope, he ordered me; the least experienced deputy to protect you. You, Vic, the meanest cop west of Philly. Give me a break, you didn't know. I'm not as sophisticated as you but I figure if someone cares about you or maybe even loves you there's an inherent responsibility to respect their feelings. You don't have to love them back but you shouldn't be mean about what they feel because that just makes you an asshole and I would hate to think of either of you that way."

"Since when have you become this guy?" She asks with a little bit of attitude.

"Since everyone else decided to act like five year olds."

He turns and points, "Do you have any luggage?"

"Just my backpack. I don't plan on being here long."

"Roger that." He says, "I'm parked out here."

They walk the short distance to the small parking lot and the Dodge pick-up sits at the curb.

"No, Trans-Am?" She asks

"I drive this now."

They climb in the truck and Ferg starts the engine. He stares out of the front windshield, "It may not seem like it, but I'm glad you're here."

She doesn't reply with a sharp bit of sarcasm like she would have in the past instead she processes the last three minutes of their conversation and the last six months of her life realizing that she's ok and it's ok that she's ok.


	5. Flyers

Her breath stays in her body as they park in front of the station, next to the Bronco, and her hands shake but just a little and something happens that she doesn't expect; the overwhelming sensation of familiarity. Her father's words are on an endless loop reminding her that she has to stop running and those words are the strength that propelled her here to this point because somewhere between April and October she figured out that in order to move forward she had to reconcile the past but she never thought that opportunity would present itself this way.

"You ready?" Ferg asks like he is transporting a prisoner.

"Yeah, I think so." She answers him and looks over at him absorbing the man before her and thinking how much has changed in such a short time.

"I told Ruby you were coming but he doesn't know. Both he's don't know." He looks up through the windshield at the building, "But I'm here and it will be ok we just gotta fix this."

"Who knew?" She says looking at him.

"Knew what?" He asks innocently.

"You were this guy."

"You just never looked, Vic." With that he steps out of the truck and onto the sidewalk where Vic joins him and together they walk in through the frosted glass front door.

"Where you been?" He snaps in the air.

"Sorry, Walt, I had to pick-up a friend from the airport."

"What friend is so important you couldn't come to work?"

Ferg stops and looks over his shoulder and she steps aside and she sees him for the first time in living breathing flesh and he's different than how he appears in her frequent dreams and he sees her and it's something they can't describe not to each other and certainly not to us especially how their hearts can stop and they remain alive and how their blood can pump faster and harder though the organ that controls them isn't working in the way it should.

"What are you doing here?"

His words are hard but they are filled with genuine questioning like he can't believe it but at the same time he can.

"Came to visit." Her voice starts out low but ends with a confident tee.

His fingers and thumb scrape against each other while pressed against his leg as if he were counting imaginary money and his jaw flexes as he processes and thinks and retreats. Without a word he turns and walks into his office slamming the door behind him literally and figuratively shutting them and her out.

She folds her arms across her chest and Ruby strides over to meet her and she's hesitant at first but her big blue eyes soften and Vic reaches out and the two women hug without saying a word because words don't need to pass between them and finally Vic releases her arms and looks at her and softly says, "I'm sorry for leaving the way I did."

"It's okay, Vic. I think I understand now."

They exchange a silent hint of understanding that only women who have loved and suffered and lost truly understand.

"Where's Eammon?" Vic asks.

"Night shift." Ferg says, "He won't be in until later."

"That's a relief."

She walks toward the closed office door and she doesn't bother to knock because she's not obligated to, not anymore, she's not obligated to do or not do a lot of things anymore where he is concerned.

He's standing between the mahogany bookcase he made by hand and the wall, his left shoulder leaning on the wall looking out through the slated window covering, the sun illuminating him in pieces but not quite strong enough to see the breaks and tears of his façade.

"Why are you really here, Vic?" He doesn't bother to look at her or turn to face her but he knows it's her in the room standing next to his desk a nice safe comfortable distance away from him.

They never used to be like this he thought, they used to be close and she reminded him of that and he dismissed it like he dismissed all the signs and cries for help from Branch and he's suffered for it ever since he stood silently in the alley. He knows that now but it doesn't ease his pain if anything it makes him more tolerant of the pain.

"When's the last time you shaved?" It's the first thing that springs from her mouth, in part, due to disbelief and the other because he looks good like this at least to her and she is ok with thinking these thoughts because her body isn't reacting the way it used to when she would be too close and the desire to touch him would nearly consume her flesh. All of that is gone now.

In the way that is Walt, he doesn't answer her, he ignores the question and ignores her, but she doesn't take the bait and instead asks, "Did you not hear me or are you choosing to be indifferent and rude?"

There's a distinguished bite to her tone and it has its desired effect as he turns his head toward her and answers, "About a week ago."

"Looks good on you." She says and his eyebrows betray him and reveal the surprise of her comments.

"You going to answer my question, now?"

"I heard you may need a friend."

"I have friends, real ones."

"Oh is that supposed to bother me because you don't know how to be a real friend so I can't imagine you have any real friends."

His jaw clenches and his lips purse and that's when she notices his hand full of something he's squeezing down by his leg and the recognition is instant so she steps closer into his space not leaving him any room to negotiate and she covers his hand with hers and says, "How long have you had that?"

He doesn't flinch at her touch like he may have once and he doesn't look away from her like he used to when she would catch him staring. He's met his resolve when he replies, "Since that day."

She turns his hand over and he relaxes his fingers, "It's yours." He offers it to her and she looks down at it and back at him, "I want you to keep it." She says.

His fingers don't argue with his brain as they collapse around the puck and it presses into the familiar space in his palm.

"Will you tell me about it." She asks still touching him and he leans further into the wall and he says, "If you tell me about it."

They are beyond the convenience of pleasantries and word games and raw emotion. No, it's just them and us watching as they strip away the bullshit.

"I suppose I begin with saying I'm sorry." He says.

"That's a good start." She says, "I'm sorry, too."


	6. Choice

It's only natural that they should feel this way, look this way, and remember how it used to be between them but now as we watch them we recognize they are not the same.

He stays leaning against the wall, his knees bent, his shoulder dipping into the neutral colored paint and he slides the puck into his front pant pocket as a natural part of his movement because it is and he folds his arms across his chest as an anchor to keep him afloat while the images that have haunted him and stalked him present themselves like a Rolodex of failures.

"Where did you go?" He asks permission with his eyes because he knows he doesn't have a right to inquire, he surrendered those rights, discarding them in a downtown alleyway.

"Does it matter?" Her honesty is not surprising but her gentleness in her truth is alarming to him not because he didn't expect it he just didn't expect it now.

He smiles just a bit as the finger of blame turns on itself and he says, "No, I suppose it doesn't."

She turns and the suddenness of seeing her back facing him prompts a visceral reaction and he reaches out, leaning forward, and touches the inside of her elbow.

"Vic." He says, "Please." It's all he says before he shuts down having exposed his inner most fear, that she is leaving again, and revealing his position of weakness but you and I know he is weak by choice, by action, but it is not the true reflective nature of his position in office or in this office with this woman.

"I'm here, Walt." She sits on the couch and she pulls back her hair and pulls down her t-shirt and waits.

He pulls up the wooden chair and faces her just as he's faced a multitude of victims, suspects, and witnesses.

"I couldn't deal with it." He says suddenly and quietly without prompting.

His hand rotates at the wrist like a motor blade helping him break the granite of emotions buried in deep within their compartmentalized crevices.

"The prospect of you and what that would mean. I wasn't up to the task." He says and he looks in her eyes seeking absolution.

She would like to believe that there are angels that suffer for love the way they have suffered but that would be a lie as their salvation hinges on knowing there was once something beautiful between them and they both played a part in destroying it.

"I chose you because you weren't available to have." She says and she doesn't look away as he absorbs her truth.

She pauses for a moment of self-assessment mindful of this conversation with this man.

"I pushed you away the only way I knew how." She says and neither mentions the other's choices because there's no need at this point the damage has been done.

He leans forward in the chair, his elbows press into his thighs, and he takes her hands in his and neither one of them hesitates as he looks in her eyes and says, "I'm truly sorry."

His eyes fill with the pain he has been carrying, the guilt, and the shame, "I'm sorry I wasn't the friend you needed me to be and that I failed you."

She leans forward meeting him half-way, "You failed yourself, Walt, you didn't fail me.

Their whisks of hair feather and fly just a bit as their foreheads touch for a whisper of a moment and he finally surrenders unto himself and speaks to their joined hands, "I wanted to find you and come for you."

"What good would that have done?" She says looking at their hands joined like never before.

"I don't know." He concedes.

He lifts his head and asks, "Did you leave because of her?"

"I left to save myself."

"Did you?"

"Yes."

"Will you stay?"

"No."

His lips thin and he shakes his head acknowledging her response.

"Ok." He says as he reaches up and slides his fingers across his forehead while searching for a position of recovery.

"Will you take care of yourself?"

"I do ok."

"This isn't going to work if you try to bullshit me."

"I need you."

"No, you don't."

He looks at her so there's no misunderstanding, "I miss you."

"I don't miss how I felt when I left and I never want to feel that again."

"It wasn't always that way."

"So I didn't imagine it?"

He shakes his head, "No."

She pauses and places the back of her hand against her lips because she's disappointed that she needs his validation that she did not hallucinate her feelings or his and they really did slice of pounds of flesh from each other's bones.

"Where does that leave us?" He looks at her.

"I don't know." She really doesn't know but she is thankful for these small moments of clarity.

"When are you leaving?"

She pulls her hair back behind her ear, "I have the last flight out."

"Can I drive you to the airport?"

She nods and he nods and they leave just before Eammon is due in because she asks him to and they drive to the airport and they sit in the Bronco and they watch the planes come and go and they make up stories about where they may be headed and for the first time he tells her about the landing strip and Henry and Nighthorse and she thanks him for telling her and trusting her and she tells him about her divorce and her collapse and why she slept with Eammon and he tells her that his jealousy was real and that he didn't chose Donna as much as he didn't choose her and he worries that she won't understand but she does.

"Do you believe in second chances, now?"

"No." She shakes her head. "I'm on my first. I'm not that woman anymore."

He smiles and it's the first time in six-months that's happened and his face contorts into its natural handsome pattern from memory.

She checks her phone and he knows that their time is up.

"I'll walk you to the security line." He says and he takes her backpack as they cross the two lanes of airport traffic and he walks her to the other side of the airport threshold.

"Vic." He pauses and looks up above to heaven for words to fill his mouth. "Thank you." It's all he can manage.

"Thank you." She says in reply.

"Can I call you?" He asks

"Let me think about it."

"How will I know?"

"You'll just know."

He leans forward and kisses the side of her cheek and he stands and watches as she moves through the sparse security line and onto the other side of the gate.

As much as he would like to turn to you and tell you that this is a happy ending we all know in this case there can't be a happy ending, not because the damage is too deep or they are too stubborn or too set in their ways but because of who they were and as he backs the Bronco out of the open parking stall he makes his choice and he radios Ruby to patch him through to her cell phone and when she picks up he says, "I'll put in the work."

"Are you doing it for yourself?"

"Yup."

"Ok, then."

He smiles as he hears her phone click on the other end.

Maybe getting it right just once does count for something.


	7. Script

She didn't break down until the second leg of her flight and it was only because the flight wasn't full and no one sat in her row or behind her or in front of her and the cabin lights were dim. There, in the absolute dark, with the hum of the Boeing engines looking out into the blackness of the expansive sky could she finally let the tears fall in silent expression of the pain, the relief, and the path she has chosen.

It wasn't that her body didn't crave him, it did, and it wasn't that she didn't miss him, she did, and it wasn't that she finally had the strength to separate herself from him because she did. It was because she was no longer dependent on his approval because she approved of herself and it was the first time it had been tested when it counted for something. She crinkled the tiny advertisement riddled cocktail napkin and blew her nose and pressed her palms to the bottom of her eyes, flipped her hair, and inhaled feeling proud and at once peaceful in her resolution.

When she lands at PHL, just as before, Vic Senior is there to meet her and he hugs her tightly at the bottom of the escalator asking if she is alright and she is and he knows it and he's proud of her as he tells her so in the middle of the cold pressed climate of the desolate airport.

On the way home she tells him what happened and he listens. You see this to has changed for them. She talks to him without being defensive because they came to a silent understanding of not judging each other even when the impulse rises. When they pull into the driveway he asks how she feels about it all and she grips the door handle, pauses, and tells her father that she is fine.

"Do you want to move back there?"

"No. I don't think so."

"It's okay if you do, Victoria. You need to know that."

"Thank you, Daddy."

He smiles and she smiles back.

After showering and getting ready for bed she plugs her cell phone in the charger and notices two voicemails and a text message.

 _Thank u 4 being true. Plz stay n touch. Luv ya Ferg_

She replies _. Welcome thank u Luv ya 2_

The voicemails were from him and she's surprised but not in the way she once would have been, her heart doesn't flutter, and beads of sweat don't form on her forehead. She's just surprised.

"Vic, uhm, I don't know what to say to your phone." She can hear him do that little chuckle thing he does when he's nervous or caught.

His voice is a little elevated, "Anyway, uhm, I hope you get home safe and maybe I will be able to talk to you soon. Ok. Bye."

The second message plays.

"Ah hey it's me again, Walt. I don't know how you feel about this but if you want to call me I would really like to hear from you but you don't need to I just thought maybe if you thought about it you may not because you know we didn't say anything but you know, um, it's ok but don't feel like you have to or anything. Ah, ok, that's it. Bye."

He sucks at messages she thinks but she also thinks that she doesn't want to call him back and as her head sinks into the pillow her body reaches the most desired feeling of weightlessness and she descends into sleep and for the first time in a long time she doesn't dream about him.

He arrives at the station the next morning on-time, clean shaven, wearing a new shirt, and he doesn't say anything to anyone about the day before or the months before. That night he sleeps soundly without the seductive aid of alcohol or wishful thinking. As the days turn he and horse take their rides but they are leisurely and he is finding new books to read.

He called her twice the first month and on the second call asked if he could write to her and she said yes because he didn't apologize for asking. She found it revealing that he was being true to himself and not conforming for expediency and she trusted him with her address and he knew that and cherished her trust and silently vowed to never disrespect it or her.

When his first letter arrived she didn't open it for two days because no matter how resolved she was there were things she knew she wasn't prepared for and part of it was acceptance and part of it was rejection although she knew she was safe it didn't mean she was safe.

The block lettering on the outside of the envelope mirrored his external strength and formidability and when she carefully separated the glued seal she opened the single sheet of white lined paper unfolding it carefully as if he filled it with confetti and the tri-fold flattened out and the beautifully scripted letters that formed words that in turn formed sentences surprised her and she felt her face flush at the delicacy of his script.

He didn't write about love, or hopes, or dreams but about the book list he made and the book he was reading, _The Road_ , and if she had read it and what did she think? He wrote about the weather and if she had any thoughts on what he could name his horse. He wrote about nothing but it was everything to her.

Three days later she called him for the first time.

"I'm not going to write you a fucking letter." She says when he answers and he laughs in the phone not tempering the volume. It's a genuine laugh. She misses that she thinks.

"I bought the book." She says and he smiles on the other end of the phone but of course she would never know that he wore that smile throughout their brief conversation and all into the next week.

His letters arrive with more frequency and Lena never says a word when she picks up the mail and puts the letters on the kitchen table for her to find. Some are long and some are short but all are filled with his elegant writing and filled with him. She no longer hesitates opening them as they become a part of her routine and then the letter comes that she isn't expecting; the letter asking if she would be willing to see him.


	8. Secrets

She doesn't allow his question to send her into a tailspin like it once would have instead she takes her time, her time, and she prepares as best as able for his indifference.

A week and two letters later she calls him.

"Hi, Vic." He answers on the third ring his voice deep and rested.

"Hi." She says sounding completely casual. "So, I got your letter."

"Which one?" He chuckles and she knows he's nervous because that's what he does and it strangely comforts her in its subtlety.

"All of them. Well at least I think it's all of them."

He chuckles again but in a good way and she feels at ease and so does he.

"Am I writing you too much?" His voice is low and a small part of him admits he is impetuous and he waits for her validation just as he has always waited and he's working on breaking himself of that need.

"I like them." She tells him because it's true.

"Good. It's good you like them. I like writing to you." He's not coming on to her and there is distinguishable silence between them. If this were thirty years ago we would hear the static on the line but right now it is just clear unadulterated digital silence and in this moment she feels closer to him than she ever has and it's not romantic, it's not hormone driven, but she feels a part of him and he feels it too and his mind relaxes into the free space between them as he closes his eyes, air pulses out of his body, his hand tightens around the dwarfed phone in his huge hand and he tenderly murmurs, "I miss you."

"What does that mean?" Her voice equally quiet and challenging but he's not confused by the question. He knows exactly what she means and he answers her.

"I miss you being here, with me, with all of us."

"What does that mean, though?"

"It means what we decide it means."

"What does it mean to you?"

"It means I want to talk to you, touch you, and lay my eyes on you. It means I miss you, Vic, but I don't miss what it was I miss what I think and feel we could be."

"I don't know if I want to see you."

She admits, finally, being honest with him and hearing the truth escape her lips the uncertainty making her feel weak but not manipulative like she would have been before in the darkness of them.

"Ok."

He says and the single syllable confirms all of her fears and vacillation as it reflects the power of his indecision that has plagued him and by default her with their inexplicable congruency and just as she concludes this certainty something unpredictable occurs.

"I understand and I respect your choice but I don't want to hang-up without you knowing that I do want to see you and I want to keep writing you if you're ok with that. I'm still working on getting where I need to be, Vic. I won't stop working. I won't give up on myself."

She is silent for a moment as she digests what he says and despite her resolve two tears fall from her eyes simultaneously but she's not stuck she knows exactly where she is as she says, "It's ok. I mean it's ok if you keep writing."

"Thank you." His voice resonates through the receiver.

"You're welcome."

"I won't pressure you."

"I know."

"I'm glad you called me." She can hear him shift the phone and she pictures him sitting at his desk and moving the phone to the other ear like maybe his ear was too hot and their conversation is too hard to hear.

"Are you?"

"Yes. You can do it whenever you want."

"Good night, Walt."

"Good night, Vic."

The next morning she volunteers for the local animal shelter because she has an overwhelming desire to be needed and three times a week she cleans kennels, shovels shit, washes towels, and dogs, and fills out ridiculous amounts of paperwork for families that adopt the unwanted. Those three nights a week she feels more on track and better about where she is and she talks to her dad about joining a local police department to begin living her life again.

At night, before dinner she goes through the mail and moves his letters to the side because her mom doesn't separate them anymore and she reads them in her room laying on her bed with her feet in the air, her ankles crossed, and sometimes she laughs and sometimes she cries but at the end of each letter she wishes it was longer and she reads it again before folding it and putting it in a prefab storage box she bought just for them.

It's on one of these nights that she goes downstairs and finds her mom at the kitchen table drinking a cup of tea.

"Hey mom, you're up late."

"Just relaxing before bed."

"Can I join you?"

"Sure."

She does and the two women sit without saying much and it's the first time Vic has felt this sense of calmness with her mother and she feels unbalanced and unsure.

"What's going on in small town USA?"

The question is indirect but it's the question she's been waiting for.

"Nothing much."

"That's a whole lot of nothing he's writing about."

She smiles and decides to take a chance, a risk, perhaps the biggest risk of her life with her mom.

"It's mostly nothing just about his day and sometimes the cases they are working."

"He doesn't own a phone?"

"Not a cell phone. No."

"You are shitting me Victoria. What the hell."

She smiles wide no longer resentful, "I know, huh, it's stupid but it's who he is you know like he builds this wall around himself so no one can get through and I think he thinks that if he gets a cell phone it makes him available to the rest of the world and he's not really prepared for that."

They laugh because it sounds ridiculous and we know it is but it's much more at the same time.

"Have you thought about moving back?"

"Sometimes."

"What are you going to do, honey? I don't want to see you waste your life away."

"I just want to have a life, mom."

She smiles and touches her daughters hand but it's not sympathy she feels it's recognition that her mischievous and oft-misguided only daughter has become a woman.

"Well, whatever you decide to do your dad and I have saved the money you give us for rent so you will have something to start on but don't tell him I told you. He's not a woman so he doesn't understand that you need to know you will have a little nest egg when you start out."

"Wow, mom. Thank you."

"You're welcome, dear. I know you had to withdraw your pension and it's only right you keep that money for your fresh start when you're ready."

Later she would tell her mom that it was the first secret they ever shared and her mom would remind her that they always shared the secret of themselves between them and that's why it took so long for them to trust each other.

The next morning after washing a pit-bull mix, mixed with what God only knows, she steps out onto the wet concrete the air filled with wet dog smell and she dials his number.

He's out of breath when he answers.

"Hello." He says a little too loud.

"Walt?"

"Yeah. I had to run back for the phone. I was leaving for the station."

"If this is a bad time….."

"No." He says, instantly regretting sounding so anxious, but it's out there and it's too late to change it and she will admit to us that she likes that he wants to talk to her despite how early it is in Wyoming.

"What are you doing this weekend?"

"Uhm, you know the usual." He says overcompensating.

His non-answer throws her for a moment and she closes her eyes thinking she's made a mistake and he surprises her for the second time in consecutive conversations.

"Ahm, hopefully I'm picking you up from the airport." He says and she swears she can hear him holding his breath as she answers him.

"I'll call you with my flight info."


	9. Detour

This is all wrong. _I'm not doing this_ her neon pink feet carry her through elongated airport terminal.

 _No, no, no –_ _she_ yields to her voice, she stops, and she reasons, processing the very real fear of meeting him and being alone with him, and not being able to leave, or being able to control it and it's suddenly all too much.

She sees the closest ticket counter and the polo clad agent with the sunny disposition seems nice enough and she smiles as she approaches and it doesn't look fake or put on. "May I help you?" She says with a distinctive southern accent and it's seriously charming and seriously welcoming in an unexpected way.

"What's between here and Sheridan?"

"I beg your pardon?"

"My ticket is for Sheridan but is there somewhere in the middle?"

Some may call it understanding when she looks at Vic but it's not it's something completely different. She recognizes the signs and the symptoms of flight, of fleeing and she sees it in her and instead of judging she offers, "How about Chicago?"

Vic looks up at the quad-pack of flat panel screens just above the Southern Belle's head realizing that she can't read anymore and perhaps she doesn't quite comprehend English anymore as the flight numbers and departure times blur into hues of orange, blue and yellow.

"Is there a flight from Sheridan to Chicago?"

Oh I'm sorry, I misunderstood."

"No, no, you didn't." She pauses and closes her eyes trying to slow down and not completely freak the fuck out.

"I'm going to Sheridan or I was but now it's Chicago but is there a flight from Sheridan to Chicago?"

She's confused.

"I was supposed to meet someone and now I don't know and well if he can fly to Chicago it's sort of neutral ground."

This too, she understands and smiles and after several rapid clicks of the keyboard says, "Yes, there are two flights a day. A morning departure at 6:00 a.m. and an afternoon departure at 2:35 p.m."

"Are there seats left on the afternoon flight?"

A couple of more clicks and she shakes her head and they exchange tickets and Vic hands over her Wyoming license and she refuses to think too much about that fact. There's no time for that now. She sprints to the gate for Chicago and fumbles with her phone as she finds her terribly cramped middle seat in the back of the plane and she calls the station because she knows he won't be home and she hates that she has to talk to anyone but him but she doesn't know what else to do. Ruby answers and she knows, she doesn't pretend, she doesn't vacillate.

"Hold on, hon let me get him."

"Hey." He says his voice cheery but strained like maybe he's been thinking about it too.

"I'm picking you up at 7:30, right?"

"No." Before she can get the rest out she hears him exhale deeply into the phone and she knows it's disappointment and she's a little happy about that but sad at the same time because she's not ready for this at least not there.

"Walt." She says and he doesn't say anything back and she thinks maybe he hung up but that would be asshole Walt and they're past all of that now, at least she thinks they are.

"Walt. Can you hear me?"

She says super quiet because the flight attendant is slamming down the overhead compartments and she doesn't have time to explain or to be nice.

"Where are you?"

He asks like he can hear all the noise and the screaming baby at the front of the plane. "I'm on a plane to Chicago. Meet me there. There's a flight at 2:35 outta Sheridan."

"What? Chicago?"

"I can't explain. It's too complicated."

"Where. Where do you want me to meet you?"

"Chicago. O'Hare."

"But where in Chicago?"

She didn't think of that and she panics for a minute and she thinks it's ruined and they don't have a place to stay and she wants to tell him to forget it.

"Vic. I'll be there."

She takes a breath and she breathes in deeper and she thinks what kind of man doesn't want a cell phone and life would be so much easier and the last compartment door slams and she tells him, "I'll meet you at baggage claim for your flight number, ok."

"I'll find you."

He says and she knows he means more and she tells him she has to go because the safety announcements have started and the flight attendant is staring at her about to give her a beat down so she shuts her phone off and flips her a smile and an eye roll compliments of Philadelphia charm school.

She pays $8 for the airline Wi-Fi and books two rooms at the Lakeshore Sheridan. Under special requests she puts, "rooms far apart – different floors, please." There's a first time for everything and there's a first time for everything she tells herself and she closes her eyes, calming her heart, slowing her thoughts and she's doing a mental checklist making sure she's ok because she knows despite all of her work, her mindfulness, and thoughtfulness that one look, one touch, one anything can derail her and she can't let that happen not until she's ready and she's not sure she will ever be and she reminds herself it's an acceptable answer.

Vic, like him, relies on her years of police training and she emails her mom and dad and lets them know where she is and of the change of plan. She needs to be safe.

She pictures him in a slight panic in his office, grabbing his coat, asking Ruby to get him a ticket, going to the bank because he never uses his credit card, packing some clothes and having a slight panic attack before screaming the Bronco to Sheridan. She pictures all of this but she's wrong about all of it from start to finish. He's not the same.

She rents a car because she thinks she should. It's strategic she thinks, an excuse not to be anchored to the hotel, a way to bail if shit gets weird, a convenience she thinks. Ok, it's a good move. A safe move. Her neon clad tennis shoe bounces next to her calf, her legs crossed, she's casual and as relaxed as she can be thinking that he must be thinking she's crazy and when she sees his gait, his strut, down the airport terminal clad in jeans, dark navy t-shirt, Levi jacket and a baseball cap she nearly faints.

 _God he looks so good she thinks._

 _Those boots are new._

 _Fuck._

 _And that bag when did he get that?_

 _What the fuck?_

Her legs are a little wobbly when she stands but it's different this time as opposed to all the millions of times she thought she would faint at the sight of him. This time he smiles when he sees her and he waves his hand like he's not ashamed, or confused, or embarrassed or whatever the fuck he was before and she smiles back.

He stops just short of her still smiling, "I don't have any luggage." He points with his thumb toward the endless carousel.

"Do you have anything?" and he shakes his head, "Of course, you must, I'm being stupid."

"No, Walt." She touches his arm, "It's already in the car."

"Car?"

"I rented a car. It seemed logical at the time."

He smiles at her and she's not able to identify what exactly she's feeling and she wants to leave, she wants to run.

"Well, ok, what's the plan?" He's not picking up on it. "You look so beautiful. I like your hair like that." His super white teeth are shining.

She doesn't know what to say so she says, "Walt."

"Vic."

He steps a little closer but not crowding her space like he's becoming aware of the barrier and respectful of it and of her.

"I don't know what's going on and it's ok. I want to spend some time with you and if this is how you want it then it is how I want it."

"I don't know what I want."

It's raw and it's real in this public place. He nods his head and he doesn't say anything as he looks down at his boots and adjusts his bag on his shoulder and she has a physical reaction from seeing his body move the way it does and she wants to throw-up, she wants to punch him as she recalls all the anger and the hate from the last time they stood like this with nothing coming from him but deceit and denial and her attempt at manipulating him. The pain is visceral. It's overwhelming and she's resentful and disgusted.

"I hated you for a long time."

She says because at this point she has nothing to lose and his eyes snap and lock on hers and he's struck by her comment and caught off-guard.

"What?" His voice is soft and low and sincere.

"I hated you for discarding me like you never gave a shit about me like I imagined it. I hated you. I hated myself."

Every ounce of cheer drained from him, "Is this why you wanted to meet me here? To tell me this?"

She shakes her head, "No. No, it's not."

Her eyes search his looking for hints of familiarity.

"I don't think I can do this." She says and he nods and she doesn't see bitterness or anger like she expected.

"Ok, Vic." He says and he looks off to the side like he's corralling the thoughts that are escaping and he lifts his cap and scratches his hair with his open palm and puts his cap back on and says, "Since we're doing this here."

He sets his bag down on the floor in-between his long legs and his new boots holding it in place.

"I pushed you as far away from me as possible because I was done with you. I was angry about Eammon and I think I had the right to be angry. I felt disrespected and resentful and I was jealous."

"Why couldn't you tell me those things?"

She says exasperated with him.

"I tried talking to you but you wouldn't have it, Vic."

He's focused and he's not letting go.

"I can't tell you how many times I tried and you shut me down and I wanted to talk to you about Branch but we just never could and how sorry I was you were alone and I wanted to be there. I wanted to be with you but I couldn't see my way clear to get there. I didn't know what we were but what I did know is that I couldn't handle it. I couldn't handle any of it least of all how I felt about you."

"I wish I had known." She says," But it wouldn't have mattered."


	10. You Shouldn't Go Home

We know as we witness them standing in the middle of the mid-western stranger infested airport that it wouldn't have mattered just like we have known all along why he was stuck in neutral.

"It wouldn't have mattered?"

Asking as if she was a homicide suspect, the evidence clear, but he needs to hear the sordid details of the confession for him to believe.

"We would have ruined it. Whatever it was. I know that now. I know it for sure."

Feeling an overwhelming sense of relief her shoulders relax into her body and her breath returns to normal because she's no longer afraid about what he thinks or what he feels.

"We did ruin it, Vic."

Bitterness of their past stops him from crossing the invisible divide that is between them and he adjusts his weight onto his hip and his hands find their place there while his lower lip sucks in between his perfectly white teeth and blows back out with his breath.

He's been using lip balm she thinks and the randomness of her thought makes her wonder if she has completely lost her sanity.

Standing in the middle of strangeness immersed in the hustle of travelers, screaming kids, families on a mission to find the perfect place; their memories collapse amongst them without visible carnage but it leaves pieces of their flesh and soul on the well traversed and marked laminate.

"I don't want it back." The pain is evident in her face.

Crossing the divide, "Neither do I. I never want it back, Vic."

"So" She says.

"So, where does that leave us?" He asks.

"I don't know."

She's no longer running, her feet are firmly planted, both oblivious to the noise and the distractions around them and both completely comfortable with not knowing the answers.

"What do you want?" She asks him soliciting him instead of presuming she knows his answer.

"I want to start over with you, with us, and see where it goes."

"Where do you want it to go?"

"I don't know."

"You don't know?"

"No."

 _I've blown it_ he thinks but _I can't lie to myself anymore_ he has internalized his truth and he chooses not to fail himself or her.

She pushes her hair out of her face with her index finger and he knows by her gesture that she is contemplating his answer, she's thinking about all of the implications, the pain they have caused each other and she is weighing the cost benefit of him.

He doesn't overthink what he feels when he closes the gap between them, leaving his bag on the floor abandoning it, pulling her into his chest holding her with his arms wrapped completely around her without the chaperone of his conscience escorting his feelings and his thoughts and she allows his head to take refuge on the side of her neck and she smells like the beach, clean and crisp and free.

He feels the weight of her turned head over his heart and her arms eventually move and wrap around his waist and he feels her breath through his t-shirt and she feels safe against the doubts and the paralyzing fear of what it could all mean.

When they talk about this moment later they will tell you that time stood still but we all know that is a gross exaggeration of an overused phrase but they stand in baggage claim for three more carousel trips from flights arriving from all parts of the world.

"I better get my bag before TSA tags it a suspicious package." He murmurs into the back of her neck.

When she lets go he immediately misses the warmth of her body pressed against his and as he bends over to pick up his bag she can't help but look at his back bottom and for the first time since she has become aware of him she does not feel any guilt or shame in her actions or thoughts.

They follow the signs and she's comforted in the fact that she has regained the ability to read as they find the parking shuttle stop and they wait on the curb line in silence but not in anger as they process what is happening and each one is trying to remain calm and cool and confident.

Their shoulders bump on the jerky ride in the too small seats, his knees pushed up too high accommodating his extra-long legs, she notices fresh scratches and nicks on the back of his hand that grips the pedestrian bar holding him in place.

"I've never seen you without your hat."

He lifts his ball cap and readjusts it like a Pavlovian dog.

"I wanted to fit in." He smiles but it's a bit shy and she smiles back because she likes it.

At the car, they work it out that he drives and she uses Google maps on her iPhone to map them to the hotel and they marvel at the buildings and talk about the wind and Polish sausage and the Cubs and the Sox and Frank Sinatra and everything about what's really on their mind because neither one of them is ready but they find their rhythm and they laugh.

He pulls into the hotel and follows the valet sign and she points to the self-parking sign and he looks over at her and winks and she feels her face flush. She really didn't expect it but she doesn't fight it either.

Once inside she's not sure if he noticed they are 10 floors apart but he doesn't say anything and they make quick plans to meet in a half an hour for dinner in the lobby and they do and when he sees her he smiles and he lifts his hand up to his waist in a little wave and walks toward her to meet her. His hair is wet and combed with a neat part and he smells like lemongrass shampoo.

He points over his shoulder, "I talked to Quentin, that's the valet, and he gave me directions to the best BBQ joint in town if you're game?"

"Fuck yeah." She says smiling as she notices the little curls start to form at the nape of his neck.

They are strategic in their ordering and they share their food like too old friends completely comfortable with each other's flaws and bad habits and while waiting for the bread pudding they decided to split she leans forward, interlaces her fingers, plants her elbows on the table and asks if he ever took Donna on a date.

"Not in the traditional sense."

"What does that mean?"

"I asked her and she said yes but it never materialized."

"You mean you took her to your place."

"Yes"

He feels guilty for telling her the truth and she's sorry she asked.

"That was the most painful part you know."

"What was, Vic?"

"You used the same line with her that you did with me."

He cants his head like he's trying to not remember.

"You shouldn't go home." That's what you told her.

He thins his lips and he leans forward but he doesn't touch her as he mirrors her position and he sees her eyes filling.

"Vic, listen to me." His voice is soft but its firm.

He confesses, "It was an asshole thing to say but I was so fucking angry with you. I wanted to hurt you."

She can see the edges of his jaw flexing back and forth.

The waitress slides the bread pudding to the edge of the table but they don't acknowledge her or it.

"I went by your cabin that morning. The morning you went after Nighthorse."

He shakes his head at the revelation.

"I had a six-pack and plans but Henry was there and I was embarrassed and I erased my message from your answering machine."

She stays leaning and twirls her thumbs as he shakes his head acknowledging the truth and recalling her number.

"Things would have been different if I had been home." He says and then he adds, "I'm sorry, Vic."

"For what, for not being home?"

He shakes his head, "No. I'm sorry for being an asshole and for hurting you." He reaches over and grips her hands with his, "I'm glad I wasn't home because we would have hurt each other even more in the end and I don't think we would have recovered from that kind of damage."

She nods, not crying, but realizing he's right as that's the sort of pain that isn't recoverable for her and it brings an understanding of why she's not ready for all of him, not now, not right now.

"I was wrong, you know."

She rubs her thumbs against the back of his nicked hands.

"I was wrong to tell you like that. I was trying to get your attention at all costs. I was so lost and so frustrated and so angry with you. I'm sorry for all of it, Walt."

He studies the red and white checked table cloth for a moment and he looks back at her and he flashes a grin.

"I accept your apology."

"I accept yours."

"You want coffee with desert?" He asks as he flags down the waitress.

"I'll have some of yours." She says without a second thought.

"Ok." He says smoothing down the back of his hair.


	11. Regret

"You want a beer?" He asks as they exit through the oversized enclosed turnstile to the upscale hotel.

"No, my head is killing me."

"I can help get rid of your headache." His eyes and his lips have joined forces to tease her.

It takes her a second to catch on because she really does have a headache and while she smiles she doesn't fall apart inside and she knows what she would have done before to hear him say this but she's so far away from where she was it makes her shake her head.

"Good try, but no thanks."

He fawns disappointment and crosses his hands over his heart and falls back just a bit, "Shot down." And he laughs and she laughs with him.

"Shut up."

"May I see you to your room?" He's standing far enough away mindful of her space.

"Sure."

She's always felt physically safe with him and as they ride the otherwise empty elevator to her floor he asks, "Why so far apart, was that on purpose?"

"Yeah."

"You don't trust me, Vic?" His voice is unsteady and it's filled with hurt and disappointment.

"More like we both would have time to think about it before we got there sort of thing."

He lifts his eyebrows and head and takes in the sight of them in the mirrored compartment.

When the doors open he places his hand in the small of her back just as he did the four years before she left Durant, and left him, and he walks her to her room. He stands to the side as if he is guarding her as she slides her electronic key in the slot and neither one of them says it but they are both thinking about the sleepy Arizona town and he wishes she could have seen him on the other side of the door because she never would have doubted how close he was to breaking all of the rules for her and only for her.

She thinks about the picture, about her smile, about the lonely night she spent staring at the evidence of her feelings and the desperation and loneliness that propelled her to leave the next morning. She never wants to be in that place again, ever. She won't let it happen and she's thankful for the headache because it does make it easier to say no but it would have been no regardless.

The soft click and the simultaneous green light and the soft push of the door handle and she opens the door ever so slightly as he leans his shoulder against the outside frame allowing her free and protected passage inside of the threshold.

He reaches out with his hand and touches her forearm.

"Vic." His voice is warm and buttery. His eyes penetrating and they lock on hers.

"You said something earlier that I think I should clear up."

She knows he is serious but she also knows that he's not coming on to her so she stops and she listens.

"You were never imagining anything before, I mean before when you were married, or before when I came back after Barlow. I just got so used to hiding what I was feeling it wasn't natural just too suddenly start showing what I was thinking but it's more than that."

He looks away for a moment like he's concentrating on getting his words right.

"Everything about you is heightened inside. I can't explain it, Vic. I can't bullshit you and there's real fear in knowing I don't have anywhere to hide."

He looks down at his hand on her sleeved arm.

"I want you to know that it was never one-sided although I know I made you feel that way and that's another thing I'm sorry for."

He pauses and collects himself.

"After I asked you to stay I should have asked for more."

"But you didn't."

"I didn't have time."

"I wasn't ready. I'm not ready now."

"That's ok."

"You say that now."

"I'll say that forever if I have to. I'll live it if I need to."

They stand silently absorbing each other and he takes his hand from her forearm and reaches for the inside stitched pocket of his jacket and takes out a sealed white envelope and hands it to her.

"I have something for you."

He holds out the envelope and her name is written in his familiar block letters with a little swirl underneath.

She takes it between her thumb and index finger.

"What's this?"

"It's a letter. I wrote it on the plane ride here and I wanted you to read it before you went to sleep tonight."

"Oh so you were confident I wouldn't seduce you, huh?"

She's sure enough of herself to tease him yet insecure enough to need the assurance.

"Vic, we're in Chicago."

She looks down at the envelope slightly crinkled from being in his pocket for hours putting her two and his two together.

His voice lowers, "If you had said yes I wouldn't have said no but maybe you would have regretted it."

"Thank you for that." She says.

"Sometimes it's just easier for me to write what I need to say." He sighs like he's exasperated with himself.

She looks up at him and smiles quickly.

"Breakfast?"

"You bet."

"Call me when you wake up."

"Ok."

He waits for a moment and he leans down and kisses her cheek, softly, and whispers good night in her ear and with that she watches him walk down the hall and disappear toward the elevator.

She takes a hot shower and washes her hair happy to release the travel dirt from her pores and her body before she curls in the bed and opens the letter filled with his familiar script.

 _Vic_ ,

 _I know we are here because you couldn't go back, at least not yet, and I'm willing to meet you where you are. Not just in a place on a map but where you are. I don't know why it's us, Vic. Why it's you and why it's me but I know it is. I know I've made mistakes that I can't account for and don't have a reasonable or logical explanation for but I'm being honest with myself. That's where we start._

 _The second part is being honest with you and while I know that means I may not always say what you want or even need to hear it will be my truth and I can't give you a greater gift or expression of my feelings than that. I hope to see your lovely face in the morning and be greeted by your smile._

 _I live for your smile._

 _Yours,_

 _Walt_

She read the letter three more times after she wiped her tears and she resisted the overwhelming desire to call his room because if she did that she knew what would happen and she despite all of her impulses she knew she didn't trust him with her heart, not yet, and maybe not ever but she knew that she didn't trust herself not to answer the phone so she unplugged it.

She's being dramatic, we both know that, right, but if she were doing this for someone else you wouldn't have thought twice about it so why are you judging her now?


	12. Chicago

"Why did you pick Chicago?"

His fingers trace the rim of the fine crystal while the steam from the cup encircles and bends between the creases of his fingers.

"I didn't"

His eyebrows rise just a tad as he sips his coffee and places it back down gently on the white linen.

"The airline agent picked Chicago."

She wipes her mouth with the heavy napkin.

"Why?"

"Just wondering."

"Coincidence." She's trying to piece it together and she studies his face, his lips and the subtle movement of his Adam's apple as he swallows.

"You don't believe in coincidences." Her thoughts are audible and he lifts the corner of his mouth confident in her confidence in him.

"Never have." His finger trails the side of the cup.

"What's in a name?" She willingly follows him down the rabbit hole as they exchange glances.

"What would you like to do today?" He's pensive because he wants to please her.

"Let's just walk."

They pull on their coats and he tucks his fitted King Ropes baseball cap down on his head and she pulls her black wool beanie past her ears and they brave the cold snappy breeze coming from the lake as they head down the sidewalk close enough to be friendly but not close enough to rid themselves of the strangeness.

"They still have these?" She says with a laugh and he looks up smiling when she turns to go inside.

They walk through the heavy thick glass front doors and immediately the smell brings comfort of old leather bound books with aging pages and thumb prints left behind from scholars and poets and priests and politicians. They get lost together in the pile of books and stand shifting their burden thumbing through journals, books, and periodicals. He had not known that he could see himself in her eyes as he stood nearly twinned at her hip the book weighing heavy in his hands and the cascade of her hair over her shoulder. She knew there could be no way back for them and their journey was a maze of misdirection, missteps, and misfortune. It would be forever. The glare from the high noon sun pierced through the double-paned glass windows illuminating their epiphany and their joint commitment to the road that propels them forward.

"What's in a name?" She says again talking to the withered pages in her hand, "Chicago was named after the Algonquian Indian word for onion field."

Her shoulder presses into him and she stays leaning and the book he's holding is becoming too heavy to bear as he says to the golden phrases, "Onion fields."

"Not too good for cops." She says and she's closer almost a part of him as she fits into the warmth of his side.

"Nope."

"No coincidences." She confirms.

"No, Vic, no coincidences." He lifts his arm around her shoulders and pulls her in tighter, the book falling to his side being held by his thumb and middle finger, "It's a place of rebirth and it can be for us." He says and she looks up and meets his vintage gaze and as she lifts her head up she wraps her arm around him appreciating the increased thickness of his waist the empty months have brought him and in all of our imaginings and theirs we never pictured their lips meeting here but they do and it's soft and knowing filled with longing as they leave behind the multitude of stray fears and impulses that inadvertently and purposefully meandered into their path.

His fingers trace the edge of her neck and filter into her hair at the elongated nape of her neck as he deepens his kiss because she's allowing him there in the place he's wanted to be for so long and she's there too with him the maze becoming clearer and straighter unencumbered by distress or flight.

"They're gonna make us buy these." She says and he laughs and she laughs too.

"I think maybe we should." And they do and he carries her bag in his and when they walk onto the brisk sidewalk he walks closer to the street and her arm touches his and he reaches down and takes her hand in his as he looks down and she peaks up confirming it is the right move, at the right time, and it's ok and it is.

They spend the afternoon dwarfed by the few million natives and foreigners and somewhere over lunch they list their top ten movies and discover not one in common so she Googles Redbox and they can't find one of their choices in the mobile movie machine so they pick one each and they both roll their eyes at the selections. They make good on their promise later in the afternoon but as the rain starts and the temperature drops he turns the couch in her room toward the open balcony and they sit in each other's arms watching the rain drops turn into a storm and they wrap themselves in a blanket and silently watch and smell the wet dew of freshness and of new beginnings.


	13. Sacrifice

"That story, you know of the onion field, it wasn't my first lesson in sacrifice but it's the one I remember. We learned about it in the academy."

"I sacrificed us" He puts it out there like it's just another drop of rain in the storm.

"What?" She asks turning her head looking at him his eyes fixed outside and he's a part of the storm nearly contained in the grief of his memories.

"I needed to let you go to save you from me. In the end, everything I love, dies or suffers because of me and I couldn't let that happen to you, Vic. Not to you."

"I don't understand."

"I shut down. I had to sever what I felt. I couldn't deal with what I felt."

She can feel the anger rise, "You selfish bastard."

She pushes herself away from him, her leg tucked under her butt, her eyes locked on the side of him, and she watches as he strokes his chin with his index finger recalling the actions that put it all in play.

"I didn't see it that way then." He looks over at her, his head tilted, resting on that same finger.

"How can you arbitrarily make decisions, life-altering decisions, which affect me without any consideration of me?" She snaps her fingers, "You dismissed me just like that."

"I thought I was being selfless. I was saving you from me."

"Why, Walt?"

"I wasn't ready. I had really just begun to grieve and I knew it but I couldn't be that weak and that empty with you."

"How could you be with her?"

"How could you be with him?"

"I felt so alone and so rejected. I felt like a fucking failure. I couldn't keep my shit together and I always have my shit together."

"You could have come to me. I wanted you to."

"Oh and be the damsel in distress. Fuck that shit."

"You're never that with me, Vic, but I need to be needed."

She captures the tenderness of his soul with his admission as it speaks to hers and her overwhelming innate conflict in needing this man.

"The sacrifice in the field was greater than themselves."

"It was but he suffered, Vic. He suffered forever."

"How many did he save though?"

"We'll never know."

He turns to face her, his leg pressed against hers, his hand resting on his thigh. They look at each other calculating the risks, the inevitable pain, against the darkness. His fingers trail to her knee and come to a rest there perched while he thinks and she thinks.

"We can never go back." She says

"I know"

"It's too late."

"It's too late for that but not for this."

"What is this?"

"Whatever we want it to be."

"I won't sacrifice myself for you."

"I'll never ask you too."

"But you'll sacrifice me."

"No"

"What's different?"

"I'm still afraid but not of the same things."

She sits and listens not wanting to offend his admission of fear which she knows on every level is the most intimate secret they have shared.

"Before I was afraid of loving you and now I'm afraid of not loving you." His eyes are super focused and serious but she doesn't see lust as she imagined all these years she sees something else but she's not quite sure how to quantify it or categorize it.

"How can I trust you? It's just words, Walt."

"Time. Only time will allow for trust. I have to trust myself it's one of the things I'm working on."

"How's that coming?"

He smiles at her for a moment and her face softens.

"It's a work in progress but I'm still working." He lingers there for a moment.

"What's stopping you?" He asks as his fingers relax on her thigh.

She places her hand over her heart without realizing she's doing it, "I can't take another broken heart. It nearly killed me." She says and her voice is strained but she's not crying she's not close to crying because this is too real and too raw and a conversation too long in the making.

"I never wanted to hurt you but I know I did. I'm not that man, Vic. Not anyore."

"I wanted to talk to you, you know, but I couldn't because I cared what you thought then."

His brows cross as he deciphers her words.

"Vic, it's ok."

"I know."

He turns to face her completely, his body open to hers, and his fingers tighten around her thigh.

"No, it's ok if you don't love me, that's what I'm trying to say."

"If I don't love you?"

"I don't think you do, not anymore."

She traces the hardened knuckles of his hand with the tips of her fingers.

"I have fallen in love with someone."

She feels the tension in his hand and the tightening of his jaw.

"I've finally learned to love myself and I like it."

His eyes deepen as he feels her slipping away and he decides in full confidence in this moment that he has to let her go.

"That's good, Vic. It's great, actually." His eyes reflect the kindness and the gentleness he stores inside and she feels it and she wants to immerse herself inside of his warmth.

"I want to love you." She says and she grips his hand, "But I'll never love you like I did before, never."

"I don't want you, too. I want us to be better than that." He says.

"What will I get in return?"

"All of me."

"No, bullshit"

"No, bullshit."

He grips her hand and he pulls her into his chest as their lips meet for the second time today and it's not gentle and it's not polite as his tongue explores her mouth and he doesn't temper the sounds that come from his body while his hand grips her ass and pulls her on top of him, her fingers pull his hair and he lets out a groan from the pain but it doesn't stop him and it doesn't stop her.

His fingers explore the side of her neck just as she bites his bottom lip and he stops and pulls back and they look at each other for really the first time and he says, "I'm not letting go this time."

"Who's asking you, too?"

He pulls her back into his mouth and he's nearly there and he doesn't think he can stop it because no matter how many times he's imagined it he never could imagine this and she scratches his chest as she pulls his t-shirt over his head and he's pretty sure it was on purpose but he likes it.

"Vic." He says against her neck and she answers him delirious and floating and high.

"Is this good-bye?"

She stops, out of breath, her eyes glossed over and she looks at him.

"I don't know."


	14. What if

She pulls her head back, still on top of him, their eyes fully engaged and engorged together in this space.

"If it's good-bye to yesterday the answer is yes."

His hands feather the back of her hair and he reassess where he is and how he feels and how he thinks.

"I know you were trying to save yourself, Walt, just like I had too. That's the other part of it and I understand that and that's why I can say good-bye to it all because I believe you're in the same place."

"Am I that selfish?"

"You can be but so can I and I'm not that anymore."

"I'm trying like hell not to be."

She leans forward and his hands fall to her hips and when her lips touch his he feels it for the first time with her and only the second time in his life.

"Vic." He says slightly out of breath, "I've dreamed of kissing you like this."

And his hands snake up the bare skin of her back and she deepens their kiss and then sits up and helps pull her shirt up and over her head exposing the lacey pink bra underneath. He takes in the sight of her and his fingers trail her rib cage and rest on her stomach.

"If we do this," She says, "We'll change it forever."

"I know."

"What about tomorrow?"

"I'll still be here."

"What about the day after that?"

"I'll be where you want me to be."

She slides her hands over his and presses them into her heated flesh as the thought enters her head for the first time, "What if the answer isn't Wyoming?"

He's never considered it and his face reflects the thought, "I only know that I love you."

She collapses on his chest and its arms and elbows and legs and feet and they try not to rip clothes but they pull them off and they wrestle for control while teasing and laughing but in the end he pulls her underneath him, their palms hard-pressed together, their bodies melded from the heat, and it doesn't take long because he can't help it but he stays there inside of her and she grips him not wanting him to leave.

He kisses her and promises it will be better next time but she dismisses his apology with a kiss to his neck and his ear.

"Don't leave. Stay here."

And he does and he looks at her and their kisses start slowly and surely and this time it's longer and more confident in their freedom of expression. It's loud, it's joyous, and rough, and gentle all at the same time as they transport each other to the place they have both been seeking and once there they recognize this is where they should be, in this place, and this time.

Afterward, after their shower, after room service, after the afterglow, he asks her to come back.

"We work when we're apart." She says and she's right.

His fingers are folded between hers, "That's true." He smiles for a moment looking at the rumpled bed. "Do you think I should check out of my room?" They both laugh.

"If you can stand it."

"Oh yeah, I think I can." He says and he pulls on his pants and his shirt and boots. "I'm going to grab my stuff I'll be right back."

She wraps her face in her hands while he's gone and she doesn't beat herself up in her solitude. This is what she's wanted for so long and now that it is here she takes stock comfortable in knowing she doesn't have all of the answers and wondering what life in Philadelphia will be like without him but intuitively knowing this is right, for right now.

The soft knock at the door snaps her out of her daydream. He's so handsome she thinks when she opens the door, "You look so good."

He smiles and pulls her to him standing in the threshold and he holds her and whispers in her ear, "You're so beautiful."

He walks her backward, the door slams into place, he drops his bag, pulls his shirt off, and her hand gives up on the buttons of his 501's so she caresses him through the thick denim pleased with his response to her touch.

"Did you check-out?"

"Yeah, I'm all yours, Vic."

He says into her mouth and he pulls his head back and looks at her, "I really mean that, you know."

"I know"

His hands grip her shoulders, "I want to be yours."

"Walt, don't go making plans in your head."

"What does that mean?"

"It means we work right now and that's good, right?"

"It is but what about later?"

"I don't know but let's take it a day at a time."

His hands drop to his side and naturally rise to his hips. "Do you want me?"

"Yes."

"Do you love me?" His blue eyes are brilliant with concern and fear and longing.

"I love you."

And she sees them for the first time, the tears that have never fallen for her or what they have done to each other and for where they are now and they are big and they drop to the floor.

She steps into him and wraps her arms around his waist feeling the soft hair on his chest and thinking how she will enjoy this for the rest of her life if she chooses too and it's empowering and intoxicating and all the things she's never felt before.

"I'm not going back with you." She says because it's her truth.

"I know."

"It's ok, Walt."

"Is it?"

"Yeah, it is."

"I want to be with you."

"You will be."

"Long distance."

"Why not?"

His head falls onto her shoulder, his arms surround her frame, and the heat between them extinguishes his doubts and he easily says yes to her and for now decides not to worry about what the future holds.


	15. Daddy's Girl

She stands at the window bay looking out onto the urban street crawling with cars and she swears she can hear the noise of the water and it makes her moan inside and she looks for him all day and all night but he's nowhere to be found except in his letters which never stopped arriving.

There's more love talk but not much and his letters are sadder than all her tears combined as her body aches for his and she knows it's not normal what she feels and she denies the power of his pull but it's always there watching and you see it too deny it though you will.

They've spoken twice in two weeks and both times he called her. He tells her he loves her.

 _I need to see you_ he says

 _I need to touch you_ she says

She can hear his groan in her ear and the ache is worse and the pain nearly intolerable so she dismisses him and ignores his call and doesn't open his letters. The days beleaguer her soul but the rude wind visits her and reminds her of the sweetness they shared, that was there just for them, but she never expected his voice to stay at her side nor the agony that would take lease of her soul.

It's late when her phone rings and she sees the number and her heart stops because she's afraid to say yes but she answers it and he says

 _Hello, my love_

 _Hello_

 _I just needed to hear your voice in my head to know you're real_

 _I am._

 _Will you let me come to you?_

 _No_

 _Just once_

 _No_

 _It feels like I'm dying_

 _I'll die if you come_

 _I never imagined it would be this hard_

 _Neither did I_

They hold the line open and hear each other breathe and finally he says

 _Good night, Vic_

It's been nine months since she's been gone from Wyoming and she thinks she could have had a baby by now and it makes her laugh and it makes her sad all at the same time because she's thinking of her life in frosted glass pieces each indistinguishable from the rest clouded with bad choices but he's not one of them.

On this dark cold night she lays on her back on her bed in her room and reads his unopened letters and they fill her with his day, his discoveries, his cases, and the blistery iron rich dirt of Absaroka County. She's never going back she says now that she's found her power, her will to survive, but that's all she's doing is surviving and she knows there's more because she's had it however brief.

A couple of weeks later her phone buzzes with a text message from Ferg, even those are more frequent since she's been back from Chicago.

 _Whaz up?_

 _Hey Fergolicious_

 _You heard the news?_

 _What?_

 _Sheriff Wilkins was indicted_

 _Shut the fuck up, for what?_

 _Bribery_

 _What?_

 _Took $ from contributors did favors_

 _Fuck_

 _I know_

 _How are u?_

 _Good. U coming here soon? Miss u_

 _Nah_

 _Oh, I c_

 _No u don't_

 _Whatever_

 _Good nite_

 _Nite, but I think u shud visit & soon_

 _Why_

 _Cause my boss is a mess w/o u that's why_

 _Shut up_

 _For reals_

 _GOOD NITE_

 _Help a brotha out, Vic lol_

She laughs and thinks about it but before she can respond she receives spelled out words

 _Sad face sadder face saddest face extremely sad face_

She laughs but the next morning she talks to her dad and he offers to make some calls and asks her if this is what she wants and she says, yes and he asks why and she tells him and he smiles and winks at her.

"That's my girl", he says.

She tells Lena her plan over coffee, their morning ritual, and she smiles and says she's her father's daughter.

Ferg picks her up and this time he hugs her like he's missed her and he smiles and laughs and has a day all planned out for just the two of them. Fishing of course he says and he's excited but he's kept her secret.

"You sure I won't cause a shit storm." She asks

"Of course you will, Vic. It's you." He laughs

"That's not funny."

"Ah, yeah, it is."

They pile into his truck, she can say it out loud now, his truck, and they drive to the station and she doesn't feel desperate or nervous. She's excited and it's a feeling she's not familiar with and she's trying to be chill but she can't help but smile.

"Is he at the station?"

"Yeah, he has a ton of paperwork. He got approval to hire two more deputies."

"Oh, really."

"Yeah, he convinced the council that he needs to start training his eventual successor and that he wants to take more time off for himself."

"No, shit."

"Seriously."

He heart stops for a beat and she does her tactical breathing because she doesn't remember reading this in any of his letters and she wonders if it's in one heading her way.

"You sure he won't be pissed at me just showing up like this?"

"I'm positive. Ruby practically begged me to convince you to come."

"No she didn't"

"Ah huh, he's a mess, but not in a bad way just stupid quiet. He misses you is all. We all do."

He smiles and his deep dimples show.

They make it to the station and like before she hears him before she sees him.

"Ferg, do you make your own hours now?"

"No, Sheriff."

"Where have you been? Ruby says you didn't call in."

"I was picking up a friend from the airport."

She steps around Ferg and he sees her and she sees him and his face goes blank like there's not a thought in the world that could penetrate what he feels in this moment and unlike every inaction of the past he steps forward toward her and wraps his arms around her and he holds her tight and she holds him and she stands on her tippy toes and his shoulders hunch over and she can feel the warmth of his breath escape from his lips as he sighs in her ear.


	16. Fishing

"I need to talk to you." She eases the words into his ear and he squeezes once more before pulling his head back.

"Ok?" concern suddenly holding his brow hostage.

"Let's talk in your office."

She is subtle. His heart pulses in the drums of his ears.

Heading toward his office door, he stops and waits as the two women in his life hug, and he waits for her. Before the door can close all the way she's in his arms and he kicks it shut with the back of his boot as their lips miss the first time and he hears her shriek but they find each other the second time. He doesn't hold anything back and neither does she and she tells him they need to keep it down and he says he knows but his hands do everything his lips can't and she's close to screaming and they both know they have to stop and they catch their breath and they slow down.

"What do you need to tell me?" He's smiling and his eyes are glistening.

She takes a deep breath, "I heard about Jim."

"Terrible isn't it." His face doesn't match his words.

He looks past her eyes and moves her hair and flips it behind her shoulder and traces his finger over her cheek and leans in and kisses her gently and softly like he's telling her how much he misses her without saying a word and she lets him.

"How would you feel if I ran for Sheriff of Cumberland County?"

Her eyes are wide open not wanting to miss any doubt and she watches as the clicks spin and a wide campaign smile crosses his weathered face.

He scoops her into his arms once more, "I think it would be great." He says and he means it and he doesn't let go of her.

"I'll need a lot of help." She says into his neck.

"You'll have all of Absaroka County behind you."

"Will you be behind me?"

"I don't mind being behind you." He teases and blushes at the same time and she smiles folding her head into his shoulder.

"There's a special election next month."

He pulls back and his mind is spinning and he's thinking and he sits down in the visitors wooden chair and threads his hair through his hand and gathers his senses, "Vic, you said you would never move back here. Why, now? What's changed?"

She stands between his legs, her hands resting on his shoulders, his hands on her hips looking up at her, "I wouldn't be here. I would be in Cumberland County."

He studies her face understanding the equity in her position.

"How long will you be here?"

"Just a few days to file paperwork, and of course to see you, and go fishing with Ferg."

He leans forward and kisses her stomach through her clothes and presses his forehead against her navel and she can feel him smile against her clothes, "Fishing with Ferg." He laughs into her buttons.

"Are you sure this is what you want, Vic?"

"Yes."

"This can't be for me."

"It's not."

"You hate it here."

"I hated what we were we can never go back to that."

She fills her hands with his hair and she feels him groan against her and he pulls her closer.

"I'll be doing my own thing, Walt. I can be Sheriff and you can be Sheriff and we won't have that weird power struggle shit."

"We work well together but not if we're together."

"That's how I see it."

His hands cover her body and move to her thighs along with his eyes.

"You better stop, you're going to make me…" She stops short as a groan escapes her lips.

"That's a good thing, Vic." He smiles, his eyes half-open, and she leans down and kisses him and its deep and knowing and accepting.

He stands up and faces her because he wants to be inside of her and he wants her to be confident in him.

"Walt, are you sure this is ok, I don't want to start any shit between us. I mean with me being here out of the blue like this."

"It's more than ok." He's pressed against her and he asks her to stay with him and to make love with him and she nods ok and when he finally steps away he doesn't say anything as he smooths down the hair she crumpled and he waits for his erection to subside before opening the door.

"Ruby, put me down for two vacation days. Call me if the county is on fire and reschedule those interviews for next week."

"Ok, Walter." She says smiling and he pulls his lips inside his mouth like he does when he's thinking and he turns and grabs his coat and his hat.

"Ferg, where's Vic's stuff?"

"Ah, I put it in your Bronco, Sheriff I figured …well you know."

He just nods at him, turns, and walks back to his office smiling at Ferg's deduction. He takes Vic by the hand threading his fingers through hers.

In that moment, he remembers it all, and it floods into him and she feels it as she tightens her grip. He leans in and kisses her lips softly no longer caring who may see them. They walk out of the office holding hands like this is an everyday occurrence and maybe it should have been when we think about it but it's here and its now.

When they pass he says over his shoulder, "Oh and Ferg, she likes Cutthroat or Rainbow trout."

"You got it Sheriff." He says back and he laughs and Ruby smiles and when they reach the bottom steps, at the landing, he stops and turns around pulling her into him, he kisses her because he needs to feel her and she lets him because she loves him.

Their hands are still intertwined as they cross Main Street toward the Bronco and he opens the door for her its gesture that reminds her they aren't partners anymore and he's thinking it too because he puts his hands on her thighs as the door presses against his back.

"Vic, I want you to be comfortable." His eyes squint in the sun and she thinks he should wear his sunglasses more often.

"I'm ok." And she is, she's past this.

"Do we need to stop and get food?" She offers changing the subject

Nope, got food."

"Beer doesn't count."

"I have real food. I've been taking care of myself."

She smiles and plays with her hair more out of habit than nervousness and when they pull up to the familiar cabin she feels a knot in her stomach acknowledging all of the bad history here and none of which she wants to remember.

He feels it and turns to look at her, "Vic, I'll take you to the hotel in town."

"No."

He squints into the sun and looks back at her, "Do you want to talk about it?" He's reassuring himself as much as her.

"I never asked you what happened but I know what happened."

"I'm thankful you weren't here."

She looks at him sharply and the knot in her stomach has moved to her throat.

"You never asked but I want you to know that I didn't sleep with her."

"What?"

"It never got that far."

"But you wanted to fuck her?"

He nods his head and she nods hers, "I get it. It's not like I'm some innocent Pollyanna."

"I want to build some good memories here and you're very much a part of that."

"They haven't been good for you have they?"

He shakes his head and he keeps looking at her, "I know I've told you and I'll never say it enough but I do love you and that means I want what's best for you. You'll make a helluva Sheriff, Vic but I don't want you to do it if you're only doing it for me. I want you to be happy."

"Would you consider moving east?" She asks her voice barely audible.

"I would. I have."

"You have?" She's admittedly surprised at his answer.

"After we got back from Chicago I read the book again and I thought about being on my knees with that pistol at the back of my head and how I was ready to die. I was more at peace in that moment than I had been in years but it was fool's gold. I was just beginning to really grieve but I wasn't aware of where I was really but when I was reading the book I thought how the choices they made seemed right at the time and given the circumstances they probably were because they were acting out of love for each other but they didn't get their chance to make it right."

He turns and looks at her fully and his fingers fall between the crevices in the steering wheel.

"Being Sheriff of Absaroka County doesn't make me a man, Vic. It certainly doesn't make me a man in love for the last time in my life and if I need to change my zip code and job title to make that happen I will."

She leans over and he meets her half-way and their kiss is slow, and it's deep, and it steams up the otherwise clean windows.

His eyes glaze over as he looks at her, "You will make a kick-ass Sheriff."


	17. Election

True to his word Absaroka County pulled out all of the stops and between Henry's barbecues and Vic kissing babies and town folk calling cousins, friends, and everyone in the middle Vic won by a landslide. The unspoken heroine in the election of Cumberland County would remain a mystery for years until it was accidentally discovered that Ruby told her Bunco group that Vic was the deputy that survived Chance Gilbert. She sort of became legendary after that and it didn't hurt when Ruby added that Walt was head over heels in love with her which upped his stock more than a little and was met with approving smiles and nods.

He went with her to find a place to live between the snow storms and he was quieter than usual which meant he was in complete silence when they drove across the county line.

"We're not doing this if you're going to shut the fuck down." She says not taking his shit.

"I'm not shut down. I'm thinking." He looks straight ahead squinting through the windshield.

"What are you thinking about?" She says thoughtfully giving him the benefit of the doubt.

"Just thinking." He says and squints some more.

"You ever think about wearing your Aviators to cover those sensitive baby blues?" She smiles widely and he responds in kind and flips his sunglasses on.

"You have the address?"

"Yeah, 12587 Rhinestone Court." She types the address in Google maps and turns up the volume for the turn-by-turn directions.

When he pulls the Bronco in front of the small single story Ranch home he looks out of the passenger window and surveils the neighborhood as only a seasoned cop can and he lifts his hand checking the mileage and she knows he's quickly calculating it in his head.

"Looks nice." She says hopping out and meeting him on the curb and he spits in the street like he's just run a mile.

"Not bad. Let's check it out."

The realtor comes out to meet them and while she's checking out the rooms and layout he's checking out the appliances and asking about the roof and the foundation and if it's on septic or sewer.

He joins them in the kitchen where she's pressed her butt against the sink listening to the leasing options and he stands next to her touching her entire left side and she thinks it's weird that he's so close but she likes it and when the realtor asks if she's interested in month-to-month or a long-term lease he puts his arm around her and kisses the side of her head.

"Do you mind if we have a word alone for just a second?" She asks sweetly and the realtor smiles and walks outside like he's seen this scene before.

"What is wrong with you, Walt?"

He steps away from her pulls his pants up, looks up to the ceiling, pulls his lips in and smacks and turns back to face her. He closes his eyes for a second and then opens them and doesn't look away from her.

"Whatever it is, Walt, you just have to say it. We are way past all of this."

"I know." He steps forward and he's almost touching her. "I'm just happy for you. I really am." He says.

"Is that's all?"

"Yeah." He leans over and kisses her lips lightly and she feels his love and she wraps her arms around him and they kiss a little deeper and a little longer. This is how they are now, not afraid of their love, and not afraid of each other.

"You can probably get a better deal if you go long term." He says with his hands on her forearms.

"You're probably right about that."

He flashes a grin and she asks how many miles it is round-trip and he answers, "47.2."

"Can you live with that?"

"Sure" He smiles that shy grin he uses when he's busted.

"I've been thinking, we can do alternate schedules, and work four-ten hour shifts. You can keep your weekends and I'll do mid-week that way you can stay here and I can stay with you. I mean if that's ok. Maybe I shouldn't assume anything."

He steps into her and says, "Shut-up." He kisses her because the overwhelming need to touch her is unrelenting and he hasn't put in enough work to ask her what he really wants; he wants to marry her.

She signs the long-term lease and on the ride back to Durant he asks her once more if he she needs help with her things in Philadelphia.

"Walt, I left with nothing. I'm basically going back to get a couple of things and to see my family for Christmas."

"I know you miss them."

"I do and I don't know maybe they can come see me now that I have new digs and am a recently elected official." She smiles brightly showing all of her teeth and his heart skips just like it does every time he sees it.

"Don't worry, Walt. I'm not going to stay this time." She reaches over and puts her hand on his and pulls it between them on the seat of the Bronco.

"I'm very happy and you know that I love you, right?" Her voice trails up at the end seeking his response.

"I know." He glances over at her, "I just thought you know it's about time for me to meet your family."

"What, you want to meet my mom and dad?" She bats her eyelashes and teases him a bit.

"Come on, Vic." He smacks his lips.

"Stop being so serious" she runs her thumb over her the back of his hand and he traps it between his fingers holding on to it gently, not letting her go.

"You'll be able to spend Christmas with Cady and Henry. It'll be nice for you."

His palm lifts up as he speaks, "I guess I am being too serious."

"We're good, right?"

"Yup."

He took a vacation day to stay home with her and they stayed in bed devouring each other.

"What's got into you?" She says breathless and seriously wondering if she will be able to walk to the kitchen for a glass of water.

"I'm going to miss you." He admits rolling onto his side facing her.

"Are your legs all rubbery?"

He shakes his head, "Its cause you were on top this time."

She kisses his lips with an audible smack.

"Your turn then."

"You ready?" He says with his wicked smile.

"Not for that, for a snack. It's your turn to make one."

"Ah, that turn."

He pulls on his boxers and makes two peanut butter sandwiches and brings back a cold glass of water and a cold glass of milk.

"You pick." He says putting one of the sandwiches in his mouth and she takes the water.

He sits on the edge of the bed, his legs folded, and leans against her butt.

"It's going to be empty around here without you."

"Trust me, I will miss the quiet and the serenity, here." She takes a bite of her sandwich. "I'm going to miss you."

She sits up and they face each other.

"What'll you miss most?"

"Besides this?" She teases and he blushes. "I'll miss laying in your lap while you read. It's my peaceful place where I reset my batteries."

"What about you?"

"Waking up with your arms around me and watching you smile first thing when you open your eyes and see me."

They are quiet and soak in each other.

"You ever think about getting married?" He's quiet about it almost shy about it.

"Married?" The shock of his question stops her mouth from chewing.

He looks over to the wall and then back at her and points between the two of them, "Yeah, you know like maybe you and me getting married, maybe one day, you know?"


	18. Home

**_A/N – A super big hug and thank you to all of you who traveled this journey with me. Your reviews and messages were meaningful and very well received. I'm taking a break from Longmire and concentrating on my real life and real loves. I'll be here reading the works of others and enjoying your efforts. Remember, to keep the faith, stay positive, and at least in this little corner of the world Walt and Vic are still Walt and Vic, but better._**

* * *

It never leaves her mind and when she sits down for tea with her mom before bed Lena pushes the familiar plain white envelope with the Durant return address toward her and she smiles.

"It's either the most romantic thing in the world or he's fucking psychotic." Lena says sipping her tea.

"He's pretty romantic, mom."

"So, when are we going to meet him?"

"I don't know. I don't want to fuck it up."

She looks over her cup.

"We're not that bad."

"Shit, mom. Yeah, you are, both of you are."

"It's serious?"

"It's serious."

She takes a sip of her tea.

"I should tell you that he wants to meet you and dad and the whole family, really."

"Oh really?"

"I think he wants to get married."

"You think"

"He asked me what I thought about it."

"What do you think about it?"

"I think I'm not any good at it, being married, and I want to start this next chapter of my life. I love being a cop mom and I think I'll make a really good Sheriff."

"You can't do both?"

"It's funny, but a year ago I would have killed for this."

"You're not the same woman and that's a good thing honey."

"He's not the same, either and that's a very good thing."

"Do you love him?"

She nods her head and her face lights up, "Yeah, mom, I really do."

"You will know if marrying him is right for you and you just have to trust yourself, Victoria. Always trust yourself."

She smiles, "Thanks, mom."

After a few more sips of tea Lena asks if he's good in bed.

"Mom, come on." She says but not surprised by her mother's inquiry.

"Look, it's important to test drive the equipment before you commit to it for a lifetime. If it doesn't work now while he's trying to please you, you can forget about it later."

Vic shakes her head and finishes her tea.

"On that note, I'm going to bed."

She picks up the letter and takes the stairs to her room two at a time and she calls him to tell him goodnight.

 _I got your letter_

 _Were you surprised?_

 _I was and it's romantic_

 _Did you read it, yet?_

 _No, I wanted to call you first so I can have your voice fresh in my head when I read it._

 _Oh, who's the romantic one now?_ His voice is deep and warm and she misses him but it doesn't hurt, not anymore, this is what it's supposed to feel like and she knows that now.

 _I guess I am_

They listen to each other breathe and she's thankful for him and she's thankful for this place and this time.

 _My parents want to meet you._

 _I can take the first flight in the morning._

 _Walt, it wasn't an invitation._

 _I'm trying here._ He laughs as he makes his plea.

 _But, what if it was?_

 _I'll be there. I want to be there._

 _My dad will probably kick your ass._

 _I deserve it._

 _You did._

 _It's ok. I'm not afraid._

 _You should be._

He laughs.

 _I would expect nothing less, Vic._

 _If you fly on Christmas day it's cheaper and it gives me Christmas Eve with them and you will have Christmas Eve with your family._

 _You're my family._

She sits and pauses on his declaration.

 _We don't have to be married, Vic, but I am your man and I need to act like it. That's how I feel about it and it won't change._

 _Go to sleep. I want to read my letter._

 _Besides, I need to fucking touch you._

 _Look who's cursing_ she smiles through the phone acknowledging his twice in a decade f-bomb.

 _Good night, baby._

 _Good night, my love._

He was at the bottom of the escalator before he figured out who he was and he was bigger and thicker than how he appeared in her pictures. He extended his hand and puffed up his chest because that's what men do and they exchanged shakes and a serious visual assessment.

"I promised my daughter I wouldn't kick your ass in the middle of the airport."

"I told her I deserve it."

They separate hands and Walt offers a quick smile and puts his hand on his hip where his sidearm normally rests.

"I'm sure you're right about that."

"Things are much different now Mr. Moretti."

At that, his eyebrow raises, "Mr. Moretti."

"Well, yes, sir."

He smiles at him, "Call me Vic."

"Baggage claim?"

"Just my backpack."

They stride out of the airport and he says, "Don't think that ass whoopin' won't be held in abeyance."

They laugh together but the conversation turns serious and they speak candidly and openly because neither man can be bothered with anything other than the truth. They both know there's too much at stake and both love her too much to take part in anything but her happiness.

When she sees him every care, every concern, drains from her face and she smiles and it's wide and it matches his and she's in his arms and he's in hers and they are wrapped in each other.

"Hey" she whispers in his ear. "You made it in one piece."

"Yeah." He says back. "You feel so good."

He kisses the corner of her mouth and takes off his coat.

Lena introduces herself since everyone else has lost their manners and she hugs him and for years when he tells the story he swears she groped him.

It's late, the family is gone, so they eat in the kitchen. A small family enjoying each other, laughing and talking through the night and Vic and Walt exchange gifts and they aren't too private, they save those for later, and it becomes a tradition, spending Christmas night in Philadelphia.

Vic Senior and Walt were right; Vic made a cracker-jack of a Sheriff. She cleaned up the department and developed community strategies of trust and transparency. She ran unopposed for two terms and the third time was just so someone could be on the ballot opposite her name and now there's talk of her running for higher office and moving to the Capitol.

Walt continued adding to his legendary status with fights, arrests, and manhunts and because he was Sheriff Moretti's man. All of which made it easy for the Board of Supervisors of both Cumberland and Absaroka to change county code which assessed both of their parcels because the town folk didn't think it was fitting that they live in sin.

The Moretti's descended upon Wyoming and the church was standing room only and money exchanged hands later from those wagering that Walt wouldn't wear a suit. They lost.

At the reception, at the Red Pony, Vic sits in his lap and whispers and laughs in his ear and he nibbles at her neck and she shrieks and he loves it and her. She reminds him how sexy his grey sideburns are and he pulls her closer.

Cady spearheads a charity fundraiser for the right to name their new nicknames since having two Sheriff Longmire's will be too confusing for the entire state of Wyoming.

If you ask them they will tell you that they don't remember the bad times much and it's not because they choose not to remember them it is more like the pain they survived, the pain they caused each other, slowly faded away along with who they once were and gave birth to the steeled love they share between them and for themselves.

They spend their honeymoon in Chicago and they never leave their room. On the plane ride home they talk about the future while holding hands.

 _You wanna run for office in Cheyenne. We can move. I'll support ya babe if you do._

 _Nah_

 _It's a good opportunity_

 _I have everything to stay for at home. I'm wanted and loved there_.

* * *

 **Written with love.**


End file.
